


wow, trampoline parks sure sound awful

by 11dishwashers



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: (this isnt smut), Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, sort of friends with benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 14:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11dishwashers/pseuds/11dishwashers
Summary: JInsol has four, five, six night stands with a girl who's stubbornly maintaining a crush on her.





	wow, trampoline parks sure sound awful

**Author's Note:**

> or alternatively: heejin's endearing speech mannerisms beats out jinsol's hatred of pillow talk.

Jinsol had made it clear as much as anything else about the situation, that she was not an avid fan of pillowtalk, nor one to sacrifice an eyelash- let alone impending doom and sleep- for such a fickle, fickle thing. The mere concept was one buried beneath tender greyish brown floorboards, among the woodlice and maggots and crickets in the summer. In her eyes, it had never been such a wonderful thing to behold, that someone she slept with should have the soul to stray past her physical ability and allure and begin a discourse that coincided with book reviews in both word count and prose, about her latest fuck's life, or what she thought about Jinsol's personality. Once, she had made a girl come untouched and then in the piggish post-orgasm haze, her eyes had gone so bright Jinsol could perhaps use them as a flashlight to fish her clothes up from the confused floor, and had confessed her love. Jinsol hadn't been in love at the time. It was a rare thing for her, and when it happened she still credited it to insatiable lust. The girl was in one revolving door and out the other; it had been through a hole in the floor, as Jinsol had no wishes to have her reputation for being emotionally distant(so distant her face went white enough to be feasibly skinned off a corpse, and when provoked at by the coroner's leather shoe it might move an mere inch to pout) formed out so early in her college livelihood. 

She'd attended art gigs, met people, carved this wonderful little social circle in the midst of her impending art block, and then the portraits with their oil scrape so thin that the sketch was visible among all light sources, a spine misted in 2B pencil. Her flat was owned solo and the dinner table was used to dump various items upon- first the makeup and then the occasional plate and then little gauche tubs in many beige-esque shades. Somewhere along the line, Heejin had began mowing the place with her public property 'OCD'(so the exaggerations went) and obvious need to be around Jinsol as much as possible. At first, the prospect that pumped this situation's freakish heart was delicate to Jinsol; scarily so, but since then she had no choice but to accept the fact that she'd somehow lead Heejin into falling in love with her over the course of their acquaintances-who-fuck situation. All prior information was put in the mildest terms. Sometimes, she thought they acted upon friendly callings,such as when they sludged about shopping malls and tried on sunglasses from the hut on level two. 

However, where there existed a polished birch handle, a polished blade was always sloping up from the base, which was what became quite apparent when Heejin was touching herself through post orgasm and the air in the bedroom would fall into routine, deflating. 

It was Jinsol's place; the air freshener was blasting in the halls to drown out the awful paint fumes, thick as stains. Even while her ears were covered in another girl's hair as she bit she could smell the artificial rose and how it bloomed, and thus how it wafted, and probed at her in the darkness. She drew down and bit at Heejin's collar until the rocking had finally been put to rest. Therein began the pillow talk. The likeness with a Street Fighter round seeped through all the layers when one r _ eally _  thought about it. First, Jinsol would mention something relatively minor and relatively scathing that had lead her to be irritated with Heejin- perhaps, "don't any of your motor functions work? You keep dropping toothpaste on the bathroom floor, and then  _ I _  have to clean it up afterwards."

Heejin would pull her hand back up to whatever pillow she just so happened to be writhing all over but moments ago, and did this funny thing where in that moment, it seemed to occur to her that the world was for her taking by some unseeable mystique she believed she possessed, and would adjust it beneath the crown of her head where her hair splotched out from- so dark it tricked the eyes under specific conditions, such as when the darkness prevailed just beyond the blinds and the moonlight couldn't quite reach their bodies, and it  lay flat on the white sheets, as though her head was struck at the roots and ink was spilling out from her skull all over the duvets so, so rapidly. She then ran a hand across some bare flesh a prude would consider decent enough and ignored Jinsol in her entirety; where she lacked in tact and other bottled politeness, she made up for in her naivety towards what she did most of the time, and that was often times quite entertaining. "I'm cold," she said. That was all she said too, not any 'oh gosh I'm so sorry' or 'I'll like the toothpaste off the tiles next time if you want' or 'a femme would never say that!'. Jinsol could hardly reach surprise even though it was so worn into her by that point. 

She instead fantasized about the state of being asleep- not that it was anything to turn a nose and a cleft up at, but rather that it was wonderful and quite achievable considering many factors to be found in their surroundings. She pulled the duvet over herself and Heejin just so happened to be in its line too. At this point, Heejin tended to run her mouth a bit, and most idiotic things that were said then covered the generics such as how much she hated her coworkers at the trampoline park she was employed by, and sometimes the sparse few that appealed to her by charismatic means, though they never could escape the wrath with which she treated her colleagues when the walls had their ears severed. The words following would illustrate the maneuvers she took to put her college work off until the last possible moment, sometimes perhaps exceeding the deadline where excuses valid enough to draw tears were enacted. Jinsol was always tired enough to fit in at a morgue when the tangents stemmed off, one after the other, yet she would lie and lie and never drift away. It was an unwilling sort of good listener traits. The stories and anecdotes and bridges would form, and her eyes would squirm about, embedded into her face, but she would never lose focus on what Heejin insisted mattered. It became obvious by the mutual interactions that they had a minor age gap, yet an effective one nonetheless.

So she supposed she knew a great deal about this girl. It was still odd to feel loved like that, in such ways wherein Heejin yapped about and smiled at her on campus and invited her to the trampoline place no matter how many times Jinsol told her she didn't do any physical activity besides walking and fucking, and how Heejin's eyes softened when she brought up her lame SNSD fanatic friends, and how she said the oddest things when her mind was hazed up and the shadows along the sheets were shifting each morning with how they both moved upon it. 

So for once, Jinsol felt she should let her eyes open fully and watch Heejin back, and perhaps say something that was long overdue, whether it was relevant to toothpaste mishaps or not(it wasn't). 

**Author's Note:**

> talk 2 me abt this confusing MESS lol :Y


End file.
